Two days later, the familiar, comforting sight of Thornhaven's walls rose up to meet them. They were a weary, trail-worn group, their armor dented, their robes stained with dirt and sweat. But they were alive, and they were together. The sight of home, of civilization, was a balm to their frayed nerves.
As they passed through the city gates, the normal hustle and bustle of the streets seemed both alien and wonderfully mundane. Shopkeepers hawked their wares, children chased each other through the crowds, and the air was filled with the familiar sounds and smells of daily life. It was a world away from the silent, twisted wrongness of the Valdris ruins.
Their first stop was the Guild Hall. There was no question of resting first. A mission report was required, and the nature of their mission meant that Guildmaster Crane would be waiting for it personally.
They walked into the great hall, and their appearance drew more than a few curious stares. They looked like they had been through a war, which was not far from the truth. The receptionist at the main desk, a stern-faced woman named Elara, took one look at them and immediately sent a runner to the Guildmaster's office.
"He will see you now," she said, her usual brusque tone softened by a flicker of concern.
They were escorted to the top floor, to the same office where Astraeus had first been given the mission. Guildmaster Marcus Crane stood waiting for them, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His gaze swept over them, taking in their exhausted state, lingering for a moment on Astraeus, who was still pale and moving with a deliberate, careful stiffness.
"Report," Crane said, his voice a sharp, commanding bark.
Darius, as the senior member of the original team, stepped forward to give the initial summary. He recounted their journey, their arrival at the ruins, and their discovery of the cultists and the ritual. He was concise, professional, his report sticking to the verifiable facts.
Then, he fell silent and looked to Astraeus.
This was the critical moment. Astraeus stepped forward, his legs feeling steadier than they had in days. He met the Guildmaster's intense gaze without flinching.
"As Darius stated, the cultists were attempting to open a stable, artificial rift," Astraeus began, his voice clear and steady. "They were followers of the entity known as the Architect of Ruin. Their ritual was complex, and it appeared to be specifically designed to draw on the unique dimensional energies of the ruins – the same energies that were present during my own… transformation.
"Crane's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
"They succeeded in summoning an entity," Astraeus continued. "A being of pure dimensional energy, a 'Shard of Ruin,' as the lead cultist called it. It was impervious to our conventional attacks. It warped the space around it, and it was consuming the very fabric of reality to stabilize a permanent gateway for the Architect."
He paused, letting the weight of the threat sink in. "We were outmatched. Our spells had no effect. We were facing a total party kill and the successful creation of a permanent, hostile gateway on our doorstep."
He took a breath, preparing for the most important part of the lie. "In that moment, I made a desperate choice. I theorized that the creature, being a being of pure, stable dimensional order, might be vulnerable to its opposite. I attempted to create a localized, uncontrolled burst of chaotic dimensional energy, drawing on the same unstable forces that are a part of my bond with Kha'Zul. My hope was to disrupt the rift, not to destroy the creature."
"You 'attempted' to create a burst of chaotic energy?" Crane repeated, his voice laced with a dangerous skepticism. "That is not a spell that exists in any known grimoire. That is the kind of thing that rips a mage apart from the inside out."
"And it very nearly did," Astraeus said, his voice dropping, his expression becoming a mask of remembered pain. "It was not a spell. It was an act of pure, desperate will. I simply… reached for the most unstable part of my own power and let it go. The result was… more than I anticipated. It created a wave of chaotic energy that not only destroyed the Shard and the cultists, but also collapsed the rift. It also, as you can see, resulted in catastrophic feedback, completely depleling my essence and causing severe internal damage. It is not a technique I would ever willingly repeat. It was a one-in-a-million gamble that happened to pay off."
He fell silent. The lie was told. It was plausible. It was dramatic. And it was unverifiable. It painted him not as a master of a terrifying new power, but as a desperate hero who had sacrificed his own well-being in a reckless, last-ditch effort that had saved them all.
Crane was silent for a long, tense moment. He stared at Astraeus, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical weight. He looked at the other members of the team, at their exhausted, grim-faced confirmation. He saw their loyalty, their shared trauma. He saw four mages who had been to the brink and back, and who were united in their story.
Finally, he gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Your report is… accepted," he said, his voice tight. "You have done the Guild a great service. The threat of the Architect of Ruin is one we are taking with the utmost seriousness. You have not only prevented a major incursion, but you have also provided invaluable intelligence."
He walked over to his desk and made a few notes in a ledger. "You will all receive a bonus of five hundred gold pieces for hazardous duty above and beyond the mission parameters. Your success will be noted in your records. Now, go to the infirmary. All of you. Get cleared by the healers. Then, you are all on mandatory medical leave for one week. Rest, recover. That is an order."
They were dismissed. As they turned to leave, Crane's voice stopped them one last time.
"Astraeus."
Astraeus turned back. The others hesitated at the door.
"A word of advice," the Guildmaster said, his voice low, for Astraeus's ears only. "Some doors, once opened, can never be truly closed again. Be careful which ones you choose to walk through."
The words were a clear, unmistakable warning. Crane didn't believe the lie. Not entirely. He had accepted the report, but he knew, on a deep, instinctual level, that there was more to the story. He was warning Astraeus that he was now on a dangerous path, and that the Guild would be watching.
Astraeus simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood, Guildmaster."
He turned and walked out, joining his friends in the hallway. The door to the Guildmaster's office closed behind them, and for the first time in three days, they could all finally, truly, breathe.